The Office
by nanniships
Summary: <html><head></head>Anthony and Edith find themselves sharing an office in a modern AU. It doesn't always go well. A vaguely connected series of 300 word drabbles based on kissman91's wonderful alphabet prompts on tumblr!</html>
1. Awake

**Alphabetical dribbles from kissman91 on tumblr! Trying to keep them at 300 words.**

**Awake: a story where one character attempts to rouse the other**

Awake

_Ummm….warm…soft…feathery….tickling…_

_ WET! Wetwetwetwetwet!_

Grimacing and moaning, Edith sat bolt upright in her desk chair, causing it to spin quickly and ram her knee into her desk.

"ARRRGH!" she screamed, clutching her knee with one hand and frantically wiping the damp from her upper lip and nose. Her cry of pain didn't even phase the helpless mirth of her office partner, whose long frame was stretched precariously in his chair as he howled at her reaction. The fluffy end of his doctorate tassel hung from his hand, still dripping tea on his leg.

"Anthony Strallan! You utter ASS!" she growled at him through teeth gritted in pain at the smart of her knee. Her face flamed her embarrassment at being caught out sleeping in her chair and in her overreaction to his prank.

Still laughing, Anthony righted himself in his chair and pushed it away from his desk. He tried to get himself under control, but the mad flush in his colleague's cheeks and her snapping brown eyes glaring daggers at him made him burst out in giggles again.

"Couldn't help it, Crawley," he sputtered, snorting with laughter. "When you started snoring, it startled me so much I dropped my trencher in my tea cup. Seemed only right you should share that little mishap."

"I do not snore," Edith snapped, rubbing her knee. "And if you weren't playing with your mortarboard like a boy out of school—"

"You most certainly do snore, Edith," he interrupted. "Hasn't anyone ever told you that before?"

"And who would be telling me that?" Edith muttered, not looking at Anthony. "It's not like I've ever shared… an office with anyone before."

"Er… I'll get some ice for your knee, shall I?" Anthony said after a moment of awkward silence.


	2. Burden

**Burden: a story about one character sharing or demanding to share a burden of the other**

Burden

56 stairs. 56 bloody stairs.

The charm of a third floor turret office wore off quickly for Edith, even before she discovered she would be sharing it with another new professor. By the time she got to know Dr. Anthony Strallan, the charm had fled entirely.

But, at least he had a strong back.

"How many more boxes?" Anthony asked through clenched teeth as they ascended the last landing and staggered down the corridor towards the open door of their office.

"Four!" Edith gasped, as she dropped her box perilously close to Anthony's feet. He jumped aside and rapped the top of his head against the door frame.

"Bloody hell!" he swore, rubbing the top of his head vigorously and glaring at Edith's attempts to stifle her laughter. "What are you storing in these boxes that you feel free to chuck them about with abandon at my feet?"

Edith grinned at him and bent to open the box. Anthony peered in and his eyes widened in shock.

"Are these…" he whispered, awestruck.

"Yes they are," Edith proclaimed, lifting a mint condition, still in the package, Dr. Who action figure from the box.

"You have a Destiny of the Daleks set!" Anthony enthused.

"I have TWO," Edith informed him with a smirk. One's in the package for display; the other's in one of the boxes still at the foot of the stairs… Along with all my OTHER spare box sets that I've opened."

Anthony stared at the package in Edith's hand and then into the box, full of other packages.

"The open ones are in the other boxes downstairs yet?" he asked absently, finger's twitching as he restrained himself from snatching and grabbing. At Edith's nod, he immediately straightened up.

"I'll just go and fetch them, then."


	3. Cradle

**Cradle: a story about our characters and an infant or small child**

Cradle

Anthony Strallan rummaged frantically through his desk drawers. His office mate watched with annoyance.

"What are you looking for?" Edith finally asked, when a hastily tossed aside sleeve of Biros skidded across her desk top.

"I had a whole pack of biscuits in here on Friday and they've disappeared!" he replied. Suddenly he stopped digging through his things and looked at Edith's innocent expression with narrowed eyes.

"Alright…alright," Edith gave in. "I had my nephew George with me here on Saturday. He _may_ have found your biscuits." At Anthony's flabbergasted look, she rolled her eyes. "Calm down, Strallan. I'll buy you another pack of Custard Creams."

"Your nephew? Well, that would explain the artwork someone left in my bottom side drawer." Edith looked with curiosity at the montage of dinosaurian shaped figures dancing across the paper in Anthony's hand. Her eye fell on the stick figure being devoured by the T-Rex and she noted with amusement that it was taller than the rest, had blue eyes, and either wore wings or an academic robe.

"He's been acting out quite a bit since his sister was born last month. Is the Triceratops stomping on a Moses basket?"

Anthony squinted. "Either that or a burrito. I suppose keeping him is good practice for when you have your own sprogs."

"How do you know I don't?" Edith demanded. Anthony looked at her with surprised eyes. "How do you know I didn't have a torrid affair with a married man, get pregnant and have to give the child up for adoption?" She cocked a challenging eyebrow at him.

"Did you?" he asked, after closing his gaping mouth.

"That would be none of your business," Edith proclaimed, grabbing her handbag and heading for the door. "Custard creams, right?"


	4. Daydreams

**Daydreams: one character daydreams about the other...**

Daydreams

_Her attention was caught by the piercing flash of his deep blue eyes over the carton he was carrying as he came through the door. He slowly turned to shut the door with his shoulder, his profile lit by the broken light coming through the leaded glass of the large window. Turning back to her, he sauntered over to her desk, gently placing the empty box in front of her and leaning down until his hands rested on either side of her chair. His face drew down to within inches of hers. Her heart sped up as she breathed in his spicy aftershave from his jaw and the faint lemony scent of the biscuits he had eaten earlier - when he'd taunted her by pretending to offer her one, then pulling it away with a mischievous smirk._

_ "__So Edith," he drawled in a low tone. "Is this what you need?"_

_ "__Oh yes," she breathed. "Exactly what I need."_

_ "__Do you want to watch…or help?" _

_ Her insides flipped over and she couldn__'t stop a whimper escaping as she mulled over the options._

_ "__Which would be faster?" she asked teasingly._

_ He bent down even closer and whispered in her ear, his hot breath blowing wisps of her hair teasingly around her ear. __"Are you in hurry?"_

_ Her head tipped back and she smirked at him._

_ "__Just start packing, Strallan and get out of my—"_

_ "_Edith? Edith! Anyone home over there?"

"Hmm? What?" Edith opened her eyes to see Anthony's amused face staring at her from across their desks. "Oh! I…um…must have been woolgathering."

"Woolgathering? You were so far gone, I'd say you had stolen the entire sheep." He quirked an eyebrow at her. "What were you thinking about?"

She flushed pink.

"Just imagining having an office to myself, is all…"


	5. Education

**Education: one character teaches something to the other**

Education

"No! Not that way, Anthony."

"I think you're just making it harder."

"I am not. Now put it on."

"Um…how do I do this…exactly."

"Well, you might want to take it out of the box first…"

"Yes, yes… I had that part, Edith."

"Just slide it on…. Oh for goodness sake! Here…let me do it…"

"Ah! So that's it."

"Now just move your fingers over this… and you should notice the change—"

"Wait! What just happened?!"

"Don't worry… you didn't lose anything, Anthony."

"I didn't find anything either…"

"Oh yes you did. Right… here. See the difference?"

"How did you…?"

"Too much to explain. Just take my word for it. Now tap just there."

"Oh my God! Is it supposed to do that?"

"How is it even possible you've never done this before, Anthony?"

"We can't all be as advanced as your generation, Edith."

"Do you want this, or not? Oh…ouch."

"What?"

"I'm in an uncomfortable position. Can you just…scoot over here…?"

"Right, right. Sorry."

"Oh yes… that's better. Now I can see what I'm doing."

"And what _are_ you doing?"

"I showed you this ten minutes ago. Don't you remember?"

"I'm easily distracted."

"Fine. Just watch this, then."

"I had no idea it could do that!"

"There's a lot you don't know that I can teach you, Anthony."

"Clearly… are you, ah…all finished?"

"I suppose. For now anyway. There's more you can do, of course. But you've probably had all you can handle for one day."

"Right. Well then. I think I owe you lunch."

"Aren't you forgetting something?"

"I don't think so…"

"Anthony! What did we just spend the last twenty minutes doing?"

"Oh! Right. I don't suppose a Smart Phone is very smart when you leave it on the desk."


	6. Faith

**Faith: one character revealing an aspect of their religious or moral philosophy to the other**

Faith

Dr. Edith Crawley steadfastly ignored the raised eyebrows and sidelong glances sent her direction from her office mate when she burst through the door, her unaccustomed heels clicking on the floor and her skirt billowing around her. She placed a gift bag on her desk and opened her laptop.

"For me?" Anthony Strallan said with a smirk. "What's the occasion?"

"Not unless your name is Emily Cora," Edith replied absently, "and you're getting christened today at some church tucked away in a grotto in some other dimension." She continued to type, biting her lip in frustration as she tried to find directions.

"Ah. Your niece, correct? The one the biscuit thief isn't all that fond of?"

"He's coming around. Throwing a big party with lots of food sweetened the deal for him. Damn it! Does this street even exist?"

"Are you sure they gave you the correct address?" he asked.

Edith rolled her eyes. "No. I'm not sure. My mother texted it and she's about as good at that sort of thing as you are." Slamming her laptop shut in frustration, she leaned her head against her palm. "Perhaps they were afraid I'd burst into flames if I set foot in the place."

"Is your family very religious?"

"Conventionally so, I suppose. It's the done thing, to get the baby dipped."

"Are you religious?"

Edith looked thoughtful. "Well… I don't really think so. But this sort of thing brings family together and closer. I do believe in that." She looked over at his unusually serious face. "What about you? What do you believe?"

The corner of his mouth quirked up.

"I believe… that you look quite lovely in that dress."

"Interesting theology," she muttered, flushing pink down her neck.

"Better hurry. You're already bursting into flames."


	7. Gratitude

**Gratitude: how one character expresses their appreciation to the other**

Gratitude

Rushing breathlessly from her last lecture of the week, Edith was greatly annoyed to find a bag lying in the middle of her immaculate desk. She glared at Anthony Strallan, who had his nose stuck in _The Times_ and was ignoring her obvious pique. She considered just leaving it, but her somewhat obsessive nature refused to allow it to remain.

She paused as she swept it up in order to throw it vigorously into the bin. Halting with her arm outstretched, she determined that the bag held an object approximately the same size and shape as a book. Immediately, she opened the bag and emptied it onto her desk.

Anthony peered around his paper to see her flabbergasted face staring at a first edition copy of _A Room of Her Own_, in nearly perfect condition.

"Where did this come from?" she whispered.

"Oh that?" Anthony commented nonchalantly. "I…er, found it at an estate sale a few years back - in a job lot of books I bid on. Never knew quite what to do with it. Rather out of my bailiwick. But since you go for those early 20th century feminist things, I thought it might be an acceptable thanks for all your help with the phone."

Edith stared at him with her mouth hanging open.

"Anthony, it's magnificent."

"Oh, it's not much. It was taking up space. Glad you like it." Clearing his throat uncomfortably, he left to go fill the electric kettle.

Edith stared down at the book on her desk and her eye was caught by a folded paper under the bag. Unfolding it, she found a list of booksellers spanning the length and breadth of England, all crossed out but one.

"Just happened to have it lying around, did you," she murmured to herself, with a smile.


	8. Health

**Health: one character is concerned about the health of the other**

Health

"That's twelve."

"Er…what?" Edith asked, wiping her nose and squinting through red rimmed eyes.

"That's twelve sneezes in the last ten minutes," Anthony informed her, peeking out from behind the thick book he was holding up between them.

"You've got nothing better to do than to count my sneezes? What are they p-p-pay-" she broke off as another sneeze ripped into her handkerchief, "_paying _you for?"

"For God's sake, go home."

"I have allergies," she snapped. "I'm perfectly fine."

Anthony snorted in disagreement. "Wonderful. I'm sharing my office with Typhoid Edith."

Edith slammed her laptop shut in annoyance and began sipping her tea, hoping the steam would help clear her head. Anthony watched her warily around his book, taking note of the color in her cheeks.

"Have you checked your temperature?" he asked. "You're looking a bit flushed."

"I'm fine," she snapped. "Or I would be if my office mate would stop staring at me and get to work."

"Well, if you don't have a fever, there must be another reason you're looking a bit flushed," he teased. "Is there a name attached to that reason?"

Edith put down her cup and glared uncomfortably at him. "Any flush on my face is most certainly due to a swiftly building rage. And it has 'Anthony Strallan' written all over it." She blew her nose loudly. "For the last time, I'm _fine._"

"Famous last words," Anthony muttered as he came around their desks to stand next to her. Edith jumped in surprise as he leaned down and placed his lips on her forehead.

"You feel a bit warm to me, Edith," he said, straightening up with a cheeky grin. "I do hope you're not contagious." Edith abruptly sneezed on his shirt front.

"Sorry about that…"

"No, you're not."


	9. Investigation

**Investigation: a story where one character seeks to find out something about the other**

Investigation

Anthony glanced up briefly from his notes as Edith's e-mail notification rang. She clicked into her mailbox with avid interest, sparing him a side eye look before concentrating on her message.

"Must be fascinating," he commented as he watched her eyes fly back and forth.

"Oh, it is. Quite fascinating."

Anthony tried to return to his work, but kept looking up as Edith's face changed from amusement, to triumph, to surprise, then to thoughtful sadness. He was caught out when she suddenly looked at him with deeply sympathetic eyes.

Clearing his throat, Anthony shifted uncomfortably. "Personal or professional?"

"Hmmm…both," she acknowledged. "It's from my brother in law."

"The journalist one or the solicitor one?"

"The journalist. He was helping me with some research."

Anthony nodded and looked back at his notes. He only lasted a moment before looking up again to see Edith staring at his left hand.

"What?" he asked, examining his hand for stray ink marks or pasta sauce from lunch.

"Nothing," she replied evasively, flicking her eyes away and shutting her laptop. "Would you like some tea?"

"Yes, thank you," he replied, slightly shocked at her offer. He preceded her to the door and opened it for her.

"Thank you… Sir Anthony," she said with a mischievous smile.

His eyebrows shot up. "Been doing some digging, have you?"

"I didn't have to dig far. You're in Burke's."

"Fair enough… Lady Edith."

Her eyes widened and she seemed caught between a smirk and a grimace.

"Touche'."

Anthony stopped and watched her go ahead of him. She turned and raised her eyebrows questioningly.

"I'm just coming," he assured her.

As he shut the door behind him, he spared a glance at his left hand, which hadn't worn a wedding ring in ten years, and sighed.


	10. Jests

**Jests: a story where one character teases the other**

Jests

Dr. Anthony Strallan looked with curiosity at the envelope on his desk.

"That was slid under the door this morning," his office mate informed him as she stirred her tea.

"Did you read it?" he asked with a mischievous smile.

"Of course not!" Edith protested.

"Well, it's nothing much, I'd imagine. Probably just a response to my request for you to move to another office."

Edith choked on her tea. "What?! You're trying to kick me out?"

"You've wanted your own office since you got here," he replied, glancing at her outraged face.

"Well, yes… but what gives you the right to demand that _I_ leave…" she trailed off as she noticed the little smile dancing on his lips. She suddenly snatched the envelope out of his hands.

"This is a notice that you're banned from the tea cart until you pay up your ten pound charge for the term!' she shouted.

"It looks like you're staying here, then," he said with a smug twist of his lips. "Good thing. Judging by your reaction, you'd miss me."

Edith looked at him with narrowed eyes, then smiled. That should have been sufficient warning, but Anthony was too busy enjoying the result of his little trick. He suddenly found himself drenched in lukewarm tea.

"Will you look at that?" Edith crowed in satisfaction. "It doesn't look as if I missed you at all."

Anthony sputtered in surprise.

"Enjoy your tea," Edith threw over her shoulder as she marched out for another cup. "As you're banned from the tea cart, it's the last you're going to get until you cough up ten pounds."

Anthony watched her flounce out the door with amusement as he pulled his soaked shirt away from his chest.

"You'd miss me," he murmured with a smile.


	11. Kisses

**Kisses: a story about first kisses, or last kisses, or ordinary kisses, or extraordinary kisses between our characters**

Kisses

Nothing compares to walking into your office, ready to get to work, only to be greeted by the sight of your office mate hopping across the room, cradling his hand and spewing expletives at the top of his lungs.

"Dr. Strallan! Do you lecture on Dickens with that mouth?" Edith said as she calmly sat at her desk. "What happened here?"

I bloody well slammed my fingers in this, stupid…bloody…cabinet," he replied, dealing out strong kicks to the furniture in question.

"It can't be as bad as all that," Edith said, rolling her eyes as he grimaced and clutched his hand to his chest. "They're still attached, aren't they?"

"Your sympathy is overwhelming," he gritted through clenched teeth. "I've probably broken them. And it's not like I can count on any help carrying my tea."

"Well then, it's fortunate that you've been banned from the tea cart. Not that that's stopped you…" she muttered. At Anthony's look of wounded dignity, she sighed and motioned for him to extend his hand.

"Let me see. It's probably not as bad as you're making it out to be."

Anthony reluctantly extended his hand, hissing in a breath when she gently took it in hers and began to stroke his injured fingers.

"Easy there!"

Edith rolled her eyes again and carefully manipulated his fingers. While bruised, the skin wasn't broken. A small smile crept over her lips, and she suddenly dipped her head down to their hands and laid her lips against his fingers, lingering for just a moment.

"There," she said brightly. "That should make it all better. It always works for my nephew." She looked up into his surprised blue eyes.

"Can I count on you if I catch a door with my face?"

"Don't push your luck, Strallan…"


	12. Literature

**Literature: a story involving or influenced by the book a character is reading...**

Literature

Dr. Anthony Strallan scanned his shelves, frowning at the gaping spaces where books should be.

"I didn't do it," Edith's voice lilted from her desk, as she diligently marked student essays. "You know I have very little interest in your vast collection of dead, white, male, western Europeans."

Anthony rolled his eyes. "You've made that abundantly clear. I'm just trying to remember to whom I've lent them out."

"As obsessive as you are about your books, I'm surprised you lend them at all," she observed.

"You're just as obsessive, if not worse," he rapped back. "It's the nature of the literature scholar beast, I suppose."

"Speaking of beasts…" she began.

"Should I prepare to take offense?"

"If you like. But I was referring to your rant yesterday when you were bemoaning the death of the short story and the installment method of publishing longer works due to an absence of popular literary periodicals."

"What about it?" he asked, caressing the spine of _Great Expectations. _Turning to gaze at her amused expression, he added: "It's true, you know. No place for authors to publish pulp or popular works anymore. I grew up reading those and they instilled in me a life—"

"Yes, yes…you covered that yesterday," Edith interrupted before he could get into full cry again. "You said there was no such beast anymore."

"How do you even remember every word of our conversations?"

"Because they're not conversations…they're monologues. And you're wrong, by the way."

"Pfft. About what?"

"Popular short story and installment publications."

Anthony smirked condescendingly. "I don't think I am."

Edith smirked back and began typing on her laptop. "Oh, you are." Turning her laptop to face him, she sat back with her arms crossed triumphantly.

"Dr. Anthony Strallan…may I introduce you to fan fiction?"


	13. Music

**Music: a story about our characters that involves one or both of them singing a song...**

Music

Muttering angrily to herself as she returned to the office, Edith stopped just outside the door to listen. There was most certainly someone in the office which was supposed to be empty, and that someone was humming like a hyper-thyroidal bumblebee. Carefully inching the door open, she dropped her handbag while her hands flew up to stifle the bark of laughter that threatened to break forth.

Dr. Anthony Strallan had apparently just returned from a workout. Her eyes widened as she took in the tight grey t-shit and black tracksuit bottoms. He was swaying and nodding his head to the music in his earbuds, humming and occasionally air drumming. She waited to be seen, but he was clearly absorbed in the article he was reading.

"No wonder he hasn't noticed me," she muttered. "The Queen Mum could stampede through here riding a hippo and he wouldn't hear her over that volume."

Sliding carefully into the room, she leaned her back against the door and grinned broadly as Anthony began rapping vigorously on his desk. Suddenly, he sprung to his feet and bellowed:

"Hoorah, hoorah, hoorah hey! Over the hills went the swords of a thousand men!"

He spun around with his arm upraised like he was holding a sword and noticed her standing there. Edith burst into laughter at the utterly shocked look on his face. He ripped the earbuds out and tried desperately to turn off his iPod.

"Aren't you meant to be lecturing?" he gasped in a strangled voice.

"Sprinklers went off," she replied through her giggles. "I'd have never pegged you as a Tenpole Tudor fan." As his face went red, she added: "Nor could I have imagined that tracksuit." He turned redder.

"What wrong with my tracksuit?"

"Not a damn thing…"


	14. Nostalgia

**Nostalgia: a story where one character reminisces about the other or shares a memory with the other...**

Nostalgia

Dr. Edith Crawley looked up in mild annoyance as her office mate heaved a sigh. He was staring at two wallets lying on his desk: one well-used, rather torn, stained and tatty; the other brand new, crisp and smelling of new leather. As she watched, he began slowly emptying out his old wallet.

"I've had this old wallet for almost twenty years…" Anthony said, as he finished transferring banknotes and began to take out all his cards. A creased, faded photo fell out from behind them and fluttered to the desk. He froze.

"What is it?"

"It's… it's a picture of Maude, my wife. I didn't know I still had it." He ran his finger along the surface of the photo.

"It must have been ten years or more that this picture was taken. I think, it was just before we split up, about a year before the accident. I can't imagine why I kept it."

"Can't you?"

"I could have sworn I packed away all the pictures." He looked deeply at the photo again. "We were fighting all the time when this was taken. She really doesn't look very happy. The divorce was almost final when she died."

"Ah, well…" he said with a shrug. "I don't mean to bore you with all this."

"What will you do with it?"

"The picture? Pack it away with the memories, or bin it, I suppose."

"Anthony… I know of a little place near here that does amazing deserts. Would you like to go?"

"Is this a date?"

"It's desert, Anthony."

"Will there be lots of chocolate?" he replied with a smile.

"Oh yes… there will be chocolate."

"Will you feed me?"

Edith rolled her eyes and tossed her hat in his face as they left the office.


	15. Obvious

**Obvious: a story where one character drops some not-so-subtle hits to the other about their feelings or desires...**

Obvious

Edith Crawley stared at the envelope in her hand and bit her lip in thought.

"Chancellor's Dinner?" Anthony asked, sorting through his own mail.

"Hmmm… yes. I suppose you got one too?" she asked, looking up at him.

"It would appear so," he confirmed, holding up a similar envelope. "Planning to go?"

"I don't know…" she murmured. "Probably not. Seems like a lot of trouble."

"Undoubtably," he agreed. "I mean… you'd probably want to get a new dress for the occasion? Something black and form fitting, perhaps. With matching heels and ear rings."

"Probably," Edith replied, narrowing her eyes suspiciously.

"I've got black tie at home, but hauling it out and getting it ready…hardly worth the effort if I'm going to go by myself and make awkward small talk with relative strangers."

"No one enjoys that," she agreed, continuing to watch him.

"I suspect the food will be excellent though, as they're feeding the Chancellor. And it so happens, my calendar IS clear for that date…"

"How convenient. Mine is as well."

"You don't say? Well, it's kind of a pity neither of us plans to go then, isn't it?"

"Oh yes. Bordering on tragedy. But I wouldn't enjoy riding the bus in formal wear, and cabs are so expensive. So, I suppose it's for the best I'm not going," Edith mused, with a tiny smile at the corner of her mouth.

"Ah, quite so. That is the advantage I have, owning an automobile. But I'm sure the parking around the Hall will be horrific."

"I'm sure. Don't know how you'd manage, really."

"Well, I'm sure I could come up with some sort of solution. It wouldn't be difficult to drop off a passenger. If I were going, that is."

"I'll be ready by 6."

"See you then."


	16. Promises

**Promises: a story about one character making or upholding a promise to the other...**

Promises

Anthony Strallan watched curiously as Edith kept shooting glances over at her shopping bags.

"Should we evacuate the building?" he asked her suddenly.

"What?" she replied in confusion.

"That way you keep glancing at those bags, I'm concerned they harbor either high explosives or some sort of poisonous reptile."

Edith rolled her eyes at his teasing tone. "If you must know, I bought a pair of shoes this morning and I'm having…second thoughts about them."

Anthony perked up. "You mean for the dinner?" She nodded, not looking him in the eye. "Don't they fit?"

"They fit. I'm just not sure if they're the right ones."

"What you need is an impartial judge," he said, swiveling his chair around and folding his hands in front of his face. "Why don't I take a look at them?"

"You're hardly impartial. And I think I'm just going to return them. They're a bit… _more _than I usually wear."

"_More? _I really don't think you should throw in the towel so quickly, Edith."

"Well… you must promise not to laugh…"

"Of course I won't," Anthony declared. "Scout's honor."

"You were never a scout," she said with a laugh as she pulled a large box from the bag.

"I was too. Briefly."

His eyes widened as she opened the box and revealed the wickedly high stilettos. Edith snuck a look at his face, watching his lips purse and mouth twist.

"Go ahead," she said with a sigh. "If you hold in that guffaw any longer you'll do yourself an injury."

"Oh, I'm not laughing, Edith. Not. one. bit."

Edith began to flush at his intense scrutiny. Hurriedly, she covered the shoes. Anthony made a strangled noise of protest.

"Edith…"

"Yes?"

"Promise you'll wear them?"

She smiled.

"Scout's honor."


	17. Quarrel

**Quarrel: a ****story about our characters arguing with each other...**

Quarrel

Any hope Dr. Anthony Strallan had that their disagreement from the night before had magically been resolved overnight disappeared when Edith didn't even look up at him when he came in. Heaving an exasperated sigh, he dropped his satchel with more force than strictly necessary. When that didn't get a rise out his officemate, he sat down, determined not to acknowledge the frosty air.

That lasted for all of twenty minutes.

"Oh, for God's sake!" he all but shouted. "What did I do that was so wrong?"

Not even glancing up at him, Edith replied through stiff lips: "What makes you think you did anything wrong, Anthony? And why ask me? It's not as if you particularly care what I think, is it?"

"What was I supposed to say, Edith? When Sparks did all that winking and nudging, what was I supposed to say? I mean, did you WANT the biggest gossiping wanker in the department making hay with our relationship?"

"I'm sure I have no idea what you should have said. And I have no idea what relationship you could be referring to."

"I'm referring to two friends spending time outside of the office they share. And I know that my response wasn't well thought out—"

"Not well thought out?" Edith dropped her tone to mimic Anthony's: "Good Lord, NO! Not in the slightest!" She looked up finally, her eyes snapping with fury. "Your capacity for understatement apparently isn't effected by your hangover."

"I never meant…" he trailed off as Edith glared down at the top of her desk, blinking quickly, but not quickly enough to hide the shine of unshed tears.

"That was humiliating, Anthony," she choked out. "And now Sparks is leaving me messages…"

"Wanker," Anthony muttered. "Edith, I really am sorry…"

Edith abruptly stood up and left, slamming the door behind her. Anthony glared miserably at her phone, which flashed "R. Sparks" on the caller ID as it rang.


	18. Reciprocity

**Reciprocity: a story about both characters doing ****favors for each other...**

Reciprocity

After two weeks of no contact at all, the last thing Dr. Anthony Strallan expected was Dr. Edith Crawley to march into their office and stand in front of their desks with her arms folded across her chest.

"Just what did you say to Reggie Sparks?" she demanded. "He apologized profusely for bothering me and told me to pass on his best wishes to you."

"He did? Ah…" Anthony trailed off as he tried to think of what to say. "I may have reminded him that I am, at least, a good foot taller than he is and told him to stop being such a wanker."

"Rubbish," Edith replied. "You couldn't threaten a pudding." She narrowed her eyes and glared at him for a moment. "Butter wouldn't melt in your mouth, Anthony Strallan."

Anthony sighed and looked away from her eyes. "I needed to put things right, so I told him I was a socially inept ass who simply protests too much and apologized for the impression I gave." He swallowed hard, remembering how embarrassing it had been to bare his heart to Reggie Sparks, of all people.

Edith looked at him doubtfully, then sat down in her chair. "You're not telling me everything, but thank you for warning off Reggie. He was driving me mad. You've done me a favor there."

Anthony risked a little smile and was relieved to see her lips twitch up at the corners. "Could you do me a favor, then?"

"What?" she asked warily.

"Would you please consider forgiving me? I've missed you and I don't want this bloody atmosphere to keep you from your office." When she didn't reply, he plowed on: "I'll make myself scarce, if that will help. Only, the library won't let me bring in my biscuits—"

"I'll consider it."


	19. Silence

**Silence: a story where neither character speaks...**

Silence

The soft light of their desk lamps cocooned them against the gloom of the afternoon as rain tapped rhythmically against the leaded windows. Drs. Crawley and Strallan bent industriously to their work - Edith making her weary way through laborious undergraduate prose; Anthony plugging aimlessly at a monograph on William Makepeace Thackery, and not enjoying it in the slightest.

Edith's attention was caught as Anthony scribbled furiously in the margins, then let his pen drop to the surface of his desk. He gazed off at the window, then stood and made his quiet way to stand in front of it. The raindrops trickling down the glass made quivering shadows on his cheeks and forehead, drawing Edith's eye to the fine planes of his face and the melancholy expression in his blue eyes. He ran his thin hand through his greying, blond hair, and she felt something in her stomach lurch.

Scolding herself, she wrenched her eyes back to her desk, willing the quivering to go away and trying fruitlessly to banish the desire to gently push his hand aside and push the loose strands off of his forehead herself.

Anthony caught the movement of her head in the reflection of the window and turned slightly to look surreptitiously at her. The way the light of her lamp bounced off the coppery waves of her hair fascinated him. He was caught flatfooted as she looked up directly into his eyes as he stared at her.

Her mouth opened, as if she was about to say something, then she closed it with a smile and looked back down at the papers on her desk.

Torn between continuing to stand and stare or walk over to her side, he did neither, quietly slipping out of the room.

Edith looked up in surprise as his arm reached down next to her and placed a cup of steaming tea on her desk.

The wind blowing the rain against the window pane was the loudest thing in the room as breaths caught and they smiled at one another.


	20. Travel

**Travel: a story about both characters going on a journey**

Travel

Dr. Anthony Strallan listened with amusement to his office mate's busy humming as she double checked the list in her hands and continued to add materials to her satchel.

"You're only giving three lectures," he teased. "Surely you can leave the kitchen sink."

Edith Crawley ignored him and tossed in a Welsh phrasebook.

"Are you planning on lecturing in Welsh?"

"Of course not," she said with exasperation. "But I will be in Swansea for a week."

"So…you'll be a missionary bringing vowels to a foreign land."

"Stop that." After throwing a few more items in her bag, she took a deep breath and looked at him. "That should do it. Are you guest lecturing anywhere over term break?"

He snorted. "As you frequently remind me, my dear, Great Britain is blessed with an overabundance of experts on dead, white, male, western Europeans. I've not received any invitations."

Edith flushed. "You're never going to let that go, are you?"

"Oh, I shouldn't think so," he replied with a grin.

"Do you have any other plans?"

"None whatsoever, other than to moon around, catch up on some outside reading, and miss our stimulating conversations."

"Lot's of updates in the Dr. Who fandom?" she asked archly. He gave her an impassive stare and declined to respond.

"Well…" she continued, suddenly hesitant. Anthony cocked an eyebrow and waited. "Why don't you come with me?"

"What? Are you serious?"

"Why not? You don't have any plans. The symposium concerns Women's studies from a variety of perspectives and disciplines; you'll expand your knowledge base."

"If we share a room, that won't be all that's expanded," he muttered.

"What was that?"

"Nothing… nothing at all."

Edith looked at him suspiciously as he tried to smile disarmingly.

"Well, what do you say?"

"I say… when do we leave?"


	21. Unusual

**Unusual: a story focusing on an obscure trait/habit one character likes about the other...**

Unusual

The office door opened with more force than necessary and bounced against the wall.

"Could you just stop talking about it?" Dr. Edith Crawley demanded irritably. "We've already established that I snore. I don't need to know how it sounded in the empty train car."

"It's just that the echoes were such that it sounded like there were three of you with your head on my shoulder," Dr. Anthony Strallan replied, following her into the office and dropping his travel bag next to his desk. "I didn't say it was unattractive."

Edith huffed at him and rolled her eyes. "You complained for three days that you could hear it from your hotel room."

"I was only joking," Anthony protested. "I couldn't actually hear you…"

"It's ceased to be funny. In fact, it never was."

"Fine. Fine. But I really didn't mind you sleeping on my shoulder. Especially the way your mouth, um…"

Edith glared at him. "Um…WHAT? Did I drool? Grind my teeth? Do something socially unacceptable with my tongue?"

Anthony's eyebrows flew up at her last item, and he opened his mouth like he was going to say something, but shut it as if he thought better of it.

"Go ahead and tell me EXACTLY what I did, in embarrassing detail, Anthony. You know you want to. Don't keep it bottled up."

"Well," he began hesitantly, "you sort of… purse your lips. Like you're about to kiss… someone."

Edith stared at him. "Really?" she asked.

Anthony nodded. "The entire time you were sleeping."

"You watched me the entire time I was sleeping?" she asked incredulously.

"Couldn't tear my eyes away." He smiled as she began to flush pink down her neck.

"I'm not sure how I feel about that," she mumbled.

"Join the club."


	22. Validation

**Validation: a story about one character seeking approval from the other...**

Validation

"Dr. Crawley, I wonder if I might impose upon you…"

"Since when do you call me _Dr_. Crawley?" Edith responded as she flipped through her mail. "I was under the impression you thought I'd gained my credentials from a lucky spin on a fruit machine."

"Really?" Anthony replied. "Have I really given you that impression? Good God, I'm sorry for that."

Edith looked up at his contrite tone. "I was mostly teasing, Anthony. You have a professional request?"

Anthony shook his head and frowned. "_Mostly_ teasing…?"

Edith sighed. "You know how it is when the ink is barely dry on your doctorate and your publications list fits on one quarter of a piece of paper. Sometimes I feel like _everyone_ thinks me an amateur dabbler who will grow out of her 'academic' phase'." She saw his frown deepen and his eyebrows draw together.

"I suppose I should stop projecting my family's opinion on my colleagues," she finished with a sigh.

"Your family's opinion is rubbish," Anthony snapped. Edith's eyes opened wide at his vehemence. "You're brilliant, or you wouldn't have been offered a position equivalent to mine which has taken me over a decade to achieve."

"Well, I hadn't really—"

"And furthermore," Anthony interrupted, "I've heard you lecture and read your thesis—"

"Wait…how did you get a copy of my—?"

"And it's highest caliber. I may not be able to produce work like that, but I know it when I see it."

"Anthony…"

"And _that's_ why I was hoping to ask you to edit my next article, because it's a bloody, useless mess right now and I'm ready to chuck it, if you can't find something to work with in it."

Breathing hard, Anthony finished with a challenging stare at Edith, who shook her head in amazement.

"Better let me read it, then."

**A/N: I'm very grateful for all the wonderful reviews, and I especially thank the guests, whom I cannot respond to via PM. Thank you!**


	23. Work

**Work: a story about our characters doing their jobs or the role of their careers in their relationship...**

Work

Drs. Crawley and Strallan flipped through their diaries, becoming more frustrated with each conflict.

"How about Tuesday afternoon? I've got a two hour window then," Anthony said as he tapped a pen against his teeth.

Edith shot a glare at him and snatched the pen from his hand. "Stop that! You know it drives me mad. And Tuesday afternoon doesn't work for me. Sorry."

"How am I supposed to note anything in my diary if you've taken my pen?" he protested. "I could forgo my usual workout on Monday next—"

"I lecture on Monday's."

"I know that," he replied with a sigh. "If you'd let me finish…" Edith waved a distracted hand in his direction as she scanned her calendar. "I could rearrange my conference for the morning and meet with you in the afternoon instead, after you're _done_ with your class."

Edith thought for a moment, then shook her head with a groan. "We wouldn't have but about 45 minutes. I agreed to meet my sister at Georgie's school for 'Tea with the Teacher.'"

"You're joking."

"I wish. Mary doesn't much like Georgie's teacher. I'm there to…run interference, prevent bloodshed, provide bail money, and such."

They both sighed and returned to scrutinizing their diaries. Suddenly, Anthony closed his with a snap.

"How about this… meeting about work during the work day clearly isn't going to work…"

Edith snickered and nodded.

"So instead, why don't I take you out to dinner and we'll spend half the time talking shop. What do you say?"

"Half the time? What will we be doing the other half?"

"Eating, presumably. And… who knows? We might just enjoy spending time with each other."

"So… is this a date? Or a working dinner?" Edith asked with a smile.

"Yes."

"What am I supposed to wear for 'Yes'?"

"Nothing at all?"


	24. Xanadu

**Xanadu: a story involving our characters in an unusually beautiful or magnificent place...**

Xanadu

"Where _are_ we going, Edith?" Anthony groused as he followed her down the brick walk.

"You said it was a beautiful autumn day and you couldn't bear to work inside, so I'm taking you to the most beautiful place in the university."

"The rubbish bins behind the Library?"

Edith sighed with exasperation and reached for Anthony's hand. "Just come on."

Anthony followed docilely as Edith led him past the rubbish bins and off the walk. Just over a rise, she stopped in a clearing ringed by oaks in full color. The branches tangled together, creating a natural ceiling that scattered light in dancing splotches over the yellowing grass. They stopped in the middle and both looked at the sky through the blaze of color.

"Amazing!" Anthony murmured. "I'd have never known this was here."

"It's lovely," Edith agreed. "I eat lunch here quite often." She sat down gracefully on the grass and Anthony followed suit.

"It's a pleasure dome," he mused, glancing over at Edith's face as she watched the play of the sunlight all around them.

"I rather doubt Kubla Kahn had anything to do with it, Anthony."

"Perhaps it's the company that makes it a pleasure dome, more so than the surroundings."

"It makes it difficult to twit you about your dead, white, male Western Europeans when you say things like that," she replied, pretending to be irritated.

Anthony smiled broadly and laid back on the grass. Edith watched him with raised eyebrows.

"I thought we were going to work on your article?"

"No one works in a pleasure dome," he growled authoritatively. "What do you think that cloud looks like?"

"Like a missed publishing deadline," Edith replied tartly. At his grin, she sighed and laid back next to him, watching the clouds float past through the shivering leaves.


	25. Youth

**Youth: a story that deals with the childhood or young adulthood of one of the characters...**

Youth

As Edith reached for the doorknob to the office, the door opened to revel Anthony in his jacket, about to leave.

"Where are you off to?" she asked,not quite able to hide her disappointment.

Anthony grinned and ran a hand through his hair. "Off for a trim."

"Why?" Edith asked bewildered. "It looks fine."

"Thanks for that. But I can't let the front get too long." At her questioning look, he shrugged. "My father wouldn't like it." Her questioning look became an incredulous one.

"I, um, was terrified of getting haircuts when I was a boy. So my mother let it grow out quite a bit between trims and my father hated it. He always said I looked like some 'poncy pop star' when the front would flop down in my eyes."

Edith laughed at the image.

"Anyway, one day he lost all patience, marched me off to his washroom, and buzzed my head down to stubble with his clippers. I cried for hours."

"Oh no!" Edith exclaimed. "That's horrible!" Without thinking, she reached out and gently pushed his forelock back.

"W-well, yes…" Anthony stuttered. "I looked like a convict for weeks. And my mother was _furious_ with him."

"As she should have been," she said firmly, dropping her hand and flushing as she realized what she'd been doing.

"I never let it grow out long enough to irritate my father again. And I got over my fear of barbers. The thought of my father with the clippers was far more scary. Habit now, I'm afraid."

"Well, if my opinion matters, I quite like it when that little bit in the front falls into your eyes."

Anthony immediately went to his desk and picked up his phone.

"What are you doing?" Edith asked.

"Canceling my appointment," Anthony said with a grin, flipping his hair back.

**A/N- We're winding down and I would be remiss if I didn't thank you all for reading and reviewing. I'm rubbish at answering everyone individually, because I forget who've I've answered and who I haven't. So if I don't respond, please know that I appreciate all your comments very much!**


	26. Zealous

**Zealous: a story about one or both characters getting carried away by their enthusiasm...**

Zealous

Dr. Edith Crawley placed the last of her Dr. Who box sets into a carton and slowly scanned the office. Her eye fell on her officemate as he glared at the wall where her credentials had hung.

"Anthony, do stop pouting. I'll only be six doors down."

"I'm not pouting," he replied, pouting harder.

"I should think you'd be glad to get an office to yourself," she said with a slight quiver in her voice.

"You don't sound very glad yourself. And why should you move? We're getting on fine."

"I'll miss you too, Anthony, but I'm _only_ six doors down."

Anthony suddenly stalked over and stood between her and the door. He reached out and took the box from her hands.

"What if six doors is too far?" he demanded.

"Too far for _what_?"

Anthony dropped the box and took Edith's shoulders in his hands. Her eyes widened as he pulled her to him. She opened her mouth to say something and was silenced by his lips on hers.

The kiss only lasted a moment. Anthony pulled back warily and gazed at her surprised expression.

"I've only been wanting to do that for months," he whispered. "I'm sorry if it ruins things, and it probably will, but—"

Edith placed her finger over his mouth "I've only been wanting you to do that for months. Now shut up and do it again."

Anthony obliged with gusto, kicking the door shut with his heel, and walking them back into the office as they kissed passionately. He lifted her onto their desks and began kissing her neck as she ran her hands through his hair.

Neither heard the knock on the door or noticed when Reggie Sparks peeked in and rolled his eyes.

"Making up for lost time," Sparks muttered as he gently closed the door and left them to it.

**A/N- All alphabets must come to an end :( Thanks everyone! And thanks especially to kissman91 on tumblr for the wonderful prompts.**


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